He knew what it was before he’d lifted the spotless cloth and his eyes welled with tears. Warm dumplings, soft and fat and oozing with honey. How had she known? What pain had she endured to make this precious food for him? He knelt on one knee before her, in a noble-man’s acknowledgement of her generosity.
Later, Althotas walked with him to the mouth of the cave. As they stood looking out over the town, he told him of the Damcar of long ago, before a djinn had taken to haunting the streets. It was a city famed for the magnificence of its gardens and the fairness of its wise governors, who had a different politic order from the rest of Arabia, until one by one the citizens fled, spreading word as they went of howling and screeching and strange happenings in the night. The conjuring of the elemental was necessary, he said, for the Great Work to go on.
Christian’s face showed only puzzlement so Althotas seated himself on a step, gesturing for him to sit also and explained…“From the time when men watched in awe as lightening sent fire from the skies, from Greece, Egypt and India and the great civilisations before them, from hidden lands beyond the seas and the icy waters, a great body of learning has been built up…and hidden from the profane.
For only little by little can man stand in the clear light of Truth.
Moses and Solomon, Plato, Aristotle and those who came after were initiated into these mysteries, all avowing silence. But these worthy men were ready and willing, under the veil of secrecy, to impart their knowledge to others, for the benefit of mankind.
Here in this hidden place, we meet and learn from each other, what is new and what can be discarded in the light of that new knowledge, and what can be done to ease humanity’s plight. We travel here in secret and go forth to our own lands to disseminate this knowledge, in medicine, the arts and sciences and the contemplation of the Divine in all things. It is for thee also, my brother, to perpetuate this heritage.”
Christian knew it was true, he’d spent his whole life nurturing this dream, hearkening to his inner voice. He felt it tingling in his blood.
“There is something I wish to show thee.” He led him again, through dark passageways and upwards by more narrow steps, up until it seemed they must reach the very peak of the mountain itself. Christian’s leg began to ache and he longed to rest but Althotas seemed unwearied by the climb. Then they came out into the sunlight, to a vast plateau hidden from the ground by grey, wind blasted rocks.
And in the middle a golden wonder, a giant circular device, rings set within rings, with symbols and lines engraved on its edges. At its centre and fixed in place by an ornate spindle, an orb, cast in gold and set with precious stones. Christian could not take his eyes from it; the burnished surfaces reflected the light, turning it into a glittering ball of cold fire. “What is it Sire?”
“It is an invention of Eratosthenes, from the time before Ptolemy. An armillary sphere. Men of science use it to calculate the passage of time.”
Christian thought of his astrolabe, an instrument much more complex in its design. “How does it work?”
“A device such as this is set outside to catch the sun’s rays, for shadows to be cast upon it. It was a gift from the noble Salah-al-Din, may songs be sung for him in paradise. Splendid, is it not?” He pointed to the glittering globe in the middle “Many would have us believe that the universe revolves around our world, for the benefit of man alone. This instrument contains a little truth. But its beauty blinds men to the lie.
We must lift the veil of ignorance from those whose pride and covetousness holds humanity back from its rightful place. Were they united they might, out of the great gifts that God has bestowed upon us, collect a perfect method of all arts and make this world a paradise.” Althotas paused, looking at Christian’s squinting, weepy eyes and deformed leg. “First, we must consult with Doctor Johannes, to strengthen that which is needed.
Then the instruction will begin. Madame Theresa is a follower of the famed Hypatia, who was scraped to death with oyster shells in the Caesarium for the sin of holding to pagan gods. She is most learned in mathematics and astronomy. We will start with the creation of the universe.”
He stood and took Christian’s hand, his face solemn “What thee has chosen to do is full of danger. You must beware the Old Enemy. By subtlety and craft he hinders every good purpose with his instruments and contentious, wavering people.
Whatever is in my power to do… however I may aid thee… I will.”
*
Christian stayed at Damcar for three revolutions of the earth around the sun.
Here he learned his mathematics, music and astronomy under the stern tutelage of Theresa, who treated him as a son. And he learned better the Arabian tongue, translating into good Latin, the book ‘M’ which was held in such reverence by his learned friends that they could not speak its name, to take with him on his journey.
He spent long months with Doctor Johannes and marvelled at the breadth of his understanding, of disease, of anatomy and medicine. Every bone, every nerve and sinew, muscle and organ, all the secrets of the human body were revealed to Christian’s nimble and receptive mind. And he soaked up the knowledge, as a sea sponge soaks up its life giving brine. Under his ministrations, Christian’s leg regained its strength and his eyes began to sparkle with health.
Natural philosophy, astronomy, alchemy and virtue…of the doctor, the herb or the metal, these were the foundation stones of healing and he grew in knowledge and confidence as he was guided toward an understanding of man’s place in the great wonder of nature.
Omar took him further into the depths of the mountain to a vast repository, shelves upon shelves, books, parchments, etched clay tablets, chiselled stones and carved figures, some old and decaying to dust, others pristine and newly bound. He allowed Christian to take a lantern and lock himself away among these undreamt of treasures. And treasure it surely was. Most written in language he could not read but some in Greek, others in Latin. He found dusty manuscripts written in Old German on the properties of metals and others, in the treatment of disease and the birthing of infants.
The further down the shelves he went, the older were the works. Much was written on cloth and parchment or wood in strange characters, part of a great hidden library that was smuggled piece by piece across the icy mountains by the monks of Thibet, in fear of its discovery, for the Mongol hordes had overrun the country and plundered it’s monasteries.
And deeper still were the remnants of works even older, from India and Babylon and the cold ashes of the library at Alexandria. And some, so far back in time that even the legends of their origin was lost. The hours he spent in solitary reading in this wonderful place were a source of untold pleasure and learning.
But Christian was no longer the frightened youth who’d thrown himself at their door, begging admittance. His teachers understood the importance of his calling. Europe had become rotten with disease and ignorance and beaten down by its overwhelming reliance on the church.
There were others daring to part this mysterious Veil of Isis, offering glimmers of truth in the darkness. But they were few, working alone and in terrible fear, and as Plutarch saw carved on the shrine to Minerva at Sais, ‘I am all that hath been, and is, and shall be, and my veil no mortal hath yet uncovered.’
Christian must build an edifice that would shine its light into the centuries to come.
He woke one morning sweating, jarred awake by a vivid dream of time going backward and the world tumbling into its swirling vortex and realised it was time to leave.
*
They followed him to the mouth of the cave, walking slowly through the twisting tunnels. No jinn screeched and railed at him now, he’d learnt that it was his own fear that followed him that day, conjured by his imagination and made stronger by his weakened state. It would not happen again. At the entrance, one by one they said their goodbyes, Theresa standing in rigid self possession, tears glistening in her eyes. She laid her hand on his head and sighed, and Christian felt the tremble in her strong fingers “Ah
, I will miss thee, boy.”
“And I, you Madame. You have taught me so much. It was more than I could have hoped. I will remember you all my life.”
She laughed “Bah, thou wilt forget me the instant thy roguish eye sets upon a pretty maiden.”
His face reddened like a beacon.
With the help of a willing servant, Johannes had instructed him in the parts and forms of the female and the diseases to which they were prone. The girl had come with him from Zurich and could neither hear nor speak, but sat quietly, gazing up at Christian with eyes the colour of deep water, and he’d had to stop himself from shaking and his manhood from rising as he laid his head on the girl’s heaving breast to listen to the womanly heart beating within. More than once he’d broken into a sweat and retreated to compose himself, embarrassed, but Johannes just laughed and sent the girl away. “How many are thy years, my boy?”
Christian had hung his head in shame “Nineteen, I believe, sire.”
”Well, no wonder thy blood is up, trapped here with dusty books and even dustier teachers. Promise me that thou wilt find a clean girl and know her fully. It is unbecoming a physician to slaver over his patients.” And he’d roared with good natured humour, making Christian wish he could crawl under the crack in the door and flee.
Now his much loved teachers were solemn… grieving already. The doctor wiped a tear from his eye and grasped his hands. “Remember always thy calling, my boy and hold it above any other consideration. To heal is the greatest gift a man can offer.”
Zosimos stepped up, his strong oiled body glistening in the sunlight “Thou art well learned now, in the science of alchemy and the properties of the stone. Of this keep silent. Death follows he who boasts of gold making. And many will lure thee from thy path should they hear of it. Journey now to Khem, to the House of Wisdom. Follow the crocodile and the water beast and begin where the lotus lies at the water’s edge, for those who wait in the darkness of the temple, wait for thee.
Althotas stood patiently until they had bidden farewell, then moved to stand at his side. Christian was gain struck by the brilliance of his eyes, his dark, polished skin.
“Your journey has been hard. What lies ahead, will be harder.”
“This sire, I know. But by your generosity, I carry with me the knowledge I need.”
Althotas went on “It is not the common people who will refuse your gifts, it is the learned, who will laugh and scoff at your presumption and deride you publicly for exposing their ignorance.”
Christian smiled and Althotas saw the determination in the set of his jaw. “Then I will dazzle them with wonders.”
He stood in the bright sunshine, dressed in the fine, sky coloured tunic that Madame Theresa had made for him, his fair hair hanging in long curls, his skin shining. He’d packed his belongings in his father’s satchel, his astrolabe and beloved book ‘M’ in his pouch, his remedy box and instruments ready to be taken on his back.
He was surprised to find six camels waiting, saddled and braided with tassels and gaudy ribbons. One snorted, spat and pulled away and Christian moved forward to reassure it, seeing an animal too old to traverse the open desert, its flesh sunken on its bony frame, its thick fringed lashes shading pale, watery eyes. He laughed. He knew this camel…and the wiry driver who stood nearby, grinning toothlessly.
“Ahmed! By all the stars in the heavens!”
Ahmed allowed himself to be swept up and kissed on both cheeks. “It is a joy to see you also, young lord. But pray, have a care. Such a display of affection has its dangers. My bones now are as brittle as those of a turtle dove. Would you have my wives widows and my children orphans?” Little Ahmed was there also, grown into a strapping bronze skinned youth, a shining scimitar now added to the dagger at his waist. He stood gravely to attention holding the tethers of the other camels.
Three were piled high with boxes and bundles and strange shaped parcels, gifts from his friends.
He turned to Althotas “Sire, there are no words to express what my heart is longing to say.”
Althotas smiled “No words are necessary, my brother. No words at all. Go with the blessing of those who love you.
And may the Great Immensity hide you under the shadow of His wings.”
*
The journey to the coast took three days and this time he rode in comfort, his small caravan ablaze with colour, joyful with softly tinkling bells. Their saddlebags had been filled to overflowing by Ahmed’s wives, nuts and dates and spicy lamb, aromatic rice and juicy oranges, boiled goats cheese and flat, golden bread. A feast fit for a prince.
And he saw the pride now in the old man’s eyes as he watched his son following quietly behind, alert and watchful.
When they reached the port at last, they loaded his goods into the hold of a vessel sailing the coasts of Africa with precious oils to trade and stood quietly on the dock as he boarded the waiting ship. They were to return now to Jaffa, and take up their work again.
He held up his hand in farewell and Ahmed called out, the warm gusts that filled the sails taking the words from his mouth, though Christian heard them clearly enough. “Young lord, think sometimes of your friend Ahmed, when you hold your star-taker aloft and bring down the heavens, for soon my flesh will be but a grain of sand in the desert.
But we will meet again in paradise.
Assalamu Alaikum!”
*
The sea was clear and filled with life, flying fish, porpoise, long finned sharks and giant floating beds of kelp. When the ship neared the shores, he swam among pretty corals teeming with silvery darting creatures and golden fan-tailed carp. He brought to the surface shells and starfish and tiny hard skinned water dragons and dried them in the sun to add to his collection.
The sailors told him of Egypt’s great river and the beasts that lived by its waters, poisonous serpents and crocodiles and the fearsome hippopotamus, known for its evil temper and crushing jaws.
And soon they were there, sailing on a vast waterway, the outlines of wind-blasted ruins far in the distance, the fields along its edge an improbable green framed by the bright, barren sands behind. He saw brown skinned children splashing in the shallows and women beating clothing on the wet rocks and lay back on his carpet covered divan contentedly watching the sailing boats as they scudded quietly across the softly rippling water.
They continued on until the river reached its greatest width and hove to beside a temple crumbling to sand on the banks, giant serried columns of hewn stone, in imitation of the lotus blossom.
He asked the captain to keep his precious cargo in the hold and meet the ship on its homeward voyage, seven days hence, promising a king’s ransom for its safe return.
He had ample money, Althotas insisting that he be provided with gold sufficient for his needs. About his waist hung a small bag of farthings and when he stepped ashore, was soon surrounded by laughing, boisterous children. He pressed one into each small hand and the crowd grew larger, carrying him along through the noisy, dusty streets.
Then they reached the steps of a temple, carved with majestic pillars and set with golden statuary and the children stopped and drew apart, silently. A man was standing at the top, dressed as Zosimos had been, with a wide collar of lapis beads around his neck.
Christian ascended the steps, meeting the eyes of the guardian, who greeted him as a brother would greet another. And gratefully, he relieved himself of his burdens… and followed him into the cool, quiet darkness.
A week later, the boy he’d set as watch banged on his door to tell him the ship had berthed and was awaiting his return. He hurried to the wharf. So profound had been his experience, so overwhelming the honours given, he prayed earnestly that none of it would be lost to his memory. He was to speak of it to no-one, nor write of it in books. He must keep it hidden, as the others had before him.
He was to journey now to Morocco, to take instruction there in magic and the conjuring of elementals. And as the noon sun beat down and turned the water
into glittering silver, he glimpsed in the distant haze three giant stone pyramids and wept at the sight.
*
Christian sailed the whole coast of Africa until he came to the quiet port city of Rabat, and from there he employed two camel drivers and their strong sons to carry his precious cargo across the desert and over the mountains to Fez.
His caravan had swollen now to ten camels, all piled high with riches; rare books of astronomy, mathematics, medicine, lost inventions and philosophies, maps and instruments of navigation, collections of rare plants and precious gemstones and small devices he’d made in the quiet hours, looking glasses of diverse virtues, little burning lamps and chiefly wonderful artificial songs.
He carried also the crushed stone of Amianthus, the same mineral that glowed in the rocks in the mountain of Damcar, to be used in the making of ever burning lamps.
It was by these treasures and his profound learning that he hoped to open minds to the possibilities of a reformation in the sciences and arts, a new axiomata…and a new beginning.
He purchased a fine Arab stallion from the best horseflesh dealer in Rabat and his heart rejoiced in the freedom it gave him, galloping and whooping over the dunes, his hair flying, the young animal’s strong muscles untiring in the desert heat.
And soon enough they reached the walls of Fez, a city bigger than any he had seen, spread out in light and shadow across the sands.
They entered through a beautiful arched gate into a square crowded with market stalls and shouting shopkeepers. Christian brought a drink from a water seller wearing a red feather hat, his goatskin strapped to his shoulders, silver cups jangling from a chain around his neck.
The camels became skittish as they tried to wend their way through the narrow streets, so he sought out a donkey carter and his train of sturdy beasts carried the load the short way to a Jewish merchant willing to warehouse them. As was expected, they haggled over the price but Christian left satisfied that the old man was trustworthy and his treasures were safely locked away until his return.
Fez was celebrated for its great schools of learning and its beautiful madrasa, lovingly decorated with cedarwood panelling and marble pillars, and it was here he stopped, to ask directions to the house of Neiliman, the Cabalist, spoken of with honour by Artephius of Damascus.